Bonds
by WolfPilot06
Summary: Hisoka learns about death. Nagare learns about hopelessness.


**Title:** Bonds

**Author:** WolfPilot06

**Characters:** Kurosaki Nagare, Kurosaki Hisoka

**Warnings:** Angst, slight spoilers for the Kamakura arc, pre-series

**Notes:** I wrote this a while ago, but something – I can't remember what – kept me from posting it. Now, I have to say, I've pretty much reached a plateau in writing Yami no Matsuei fic. At some point of time, I _do_ want to finish everything I've started, but it's certainly not happening in the near future. Until then, you'll have to placate yourself with other people's fics and little bits that may spew forth from my general direction every now and then.

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"Father?"

The man turned towards the door slightly, an elegant eyebrow quirked in question at the small figure that stood there, something cupped between its chubby hands.

"Yes, little one?"

The boy crept into the room timidly, unruly flaxen hair falling into his green eyes as he cradled whatever he was holding carefully. Nagare watched him with detached interest, feeling the snake stir within him slightly, rousing from its slumber temporarily to watch through his eyes as the youth approached him uncertainly.

"Something's wrong with Boko." He extended his hands towards Nagare, a small bird in his grasp. The tiny creature was still, feathers flattened slightly by the boy's tentative touch, thin stick-like legs curled up defensively against its fluffed-up chest, frozen in its last attempt to ward off the inevitable stroke of death. Nagare looked at him blandly before closing his eyes to the morbidly perfect sight of the dead bird. The snake hissed, a strange hunger rising before he willed it away.

"And what do you wish for me to do?" A small part of him ached at the coldness of his own voice, wishing that somehow, he could bring himself to show some small bit of affection towards the subdued child standing beseechingly before him. Destiny, however, was a cruel woman. She did not smile upon the cursed. The boy trembled.

"Can you…fix him?"

He was so young. Nagare opened his eyes, allowing himself to look upon the small figure engulfed in his overly large yutaka, soft cheeks tearstained and red from crying. And those _eyes_. They saw into him, the verdant gaze piercing his strongest defenses and begging him to draw the boy into his arms, to forgive the child for a crime he could not have helped committing. Again, the strange hunger rose, and it was a moment before he could compose himself enough to turn away.

"It is dead. There is nothing to be done."

The yutaka rustled again, the child shifting his weight unhappily.

"Father, what is…what does it mean to be 'dead'?" The piping voice was strained and confused. Nagare was almost impressed with the child's attempts to maintain some semblance of composure, but then the snake hissed a harsh reminder and he turned the corners of his lips downward. "Is it…is it permanent? Does it hurt?"

Nagare took a long time to reply, the child fidgeting slightly as he waited, Boko's still corpse still cupped between his careful hands with a tenderness that spoke of love and affection. If only –

"Death, little one, is the last escape," he said finally, and then – only then – could he reach out and lay a hand on the child's head. Clear eyes widened and horror filled the depths of the child's gaze suddenly, a tremble fluttering through his overly thin body. Nagare resisted the urge to crush him in his embrace, to fold him into his arms and carry the two of them to the pond where so many had died before. If only he could carry his son – his _child_ – with him into death.

Nagare was a proud man, but Nagare did not want to die alone.

"Remember this when you are older," Nagare sighed, and released the boy from his hold, leaving the small child shaking and blinking in his wake. "When you curse my name and ask the gods why you had to suffer your fate, remember that the final escape awaits you, if only you are patient enough to wait."

Without another word, Nagare turned and walked from the room, leaving the boy with the verdant eyes alone in the empty hall of their fathers, clasping the tiny, still corpse of what was once alive to his chest.

Yatonogami held Nagare's escape in its serpentine grasp, destroyed each of his dreams as they were born, filled his sleep with incomprehensible horrors, but Nagare would never allow Yatonogami the pleasure of breaking the bond he held with his son.

It was impossible to break what did not exist.

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The End

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Comments and Criticism, as always, welcomed.

Wolf


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